Homenum Revelio
by Backtogiality
Summary: Adina's family are murdered: in a last attempt to save them, she takes her father's time turner, intending to go back only a few hours. Her attacker has a different idea, and she's thrown into 1977. Getting to know the marauders is incredible, the only problem? She's forgotten everything about who she is, and her assailant's back to finish the job.


October 23rd, 2011

Green light flooded the room. Momentarily, she was blinded, but from then on her vision would always be tainted by the memory of that murderous beam. A scream pierced the silence, reverberating off of the walls. She watched as her assailant calmly stepped over the body of her mother as if she were nothing more than a puddle on the street, a mere inconvenience to be avoided. She would never forget the look of sheer terror on the face of the woman that had raised her. Her steely eyes turned to her brother, whose jaw was set in perpetuated determination. His eyes were closed: had she not just seen him die, she might have thought him to be sleeping. His wand lay a few meters away from him, his fingers outstretched towards it in an attempt at a final stand. And, finally, she examined her father for the last time. In one hand he clutched his wand, in the other his wife's hand - his wedding ring glinted tauntingly in the fading light. They were inseparable even in death. The sight of them all, unbreathing, sent her spiralling into an unrivalled rage. If it was the last thing she did - and it probably would be - she'd kill the man who dared to touch them.

From her hiding spot within the shadowed hallway, she took one final glance at the remains of her family, hoping to gain some semblance of courage from it. Instead, an idea struck her like lightning, sending jolts of electricity through her veins. It was risky, dangerous, downright suicidal - and there was no time, surely. But there was a chance, however small, that it would work; she was willing to take it.

Creeping out of the shadows, she backed up against the wall until she reached the stairs. She darted up them, taking two steps at a time. There was no way the Death Eater hadn't heard her by now. She scrambled onto the landing, nearly tripping herself in the process, making for the second door on the right.

A deep, hollow laugh from below her. The sound of boots on wood, leisurely steps. Evidently, he wasn't worried about an escape attempt. He had all the time in the world, for all he cared. She launched herself at the door, turning the brass knob and thanking Merlin that her father hadn't locked his bedroom door magically, as he often did.

"Colloportus," she whispered, hands shaking as she pointed her wand at it. Hopefully, the charm would buy her some time. The room was engulfed in darkness, the curtains drawn. Still, they were unable to prevent the silver slivers of moonlight dancing across the wood-panelled floor.

Dashing to the side of the bed, she yanked open each drawer, unsure if she knew exactly what she was searching so frantically for. Papers, books, random little trinkets: all useless. She pushed past photographs that it hurt dreadfully to look at. There was no time for pain. Rifling through them was proving completely fruitless, so she racked her brain for a spell to use. Nothing came to mind. His footsteps rang out, cutting through the tension in the air. He was closer now, had probably reached the stairs. And he was whistling - the sound made her sick with hatred, but it sent her brain reeling into overdrive until finally, she knew what she had to do.

"Accio."

The gold object flew into her palm, the metal cooling her hand. It was intricately engraved and blackened in some areas, as if someone had tried to burn it. Somehow, it had retained its beauty. She would have appreciated it much more if time turners were not completely illegal. There wasn't enough time to dwell on that, though, so she threw the chain haphazardly over herself and began to turn the hourglass.

'Three hours,' she pleaded with herself as she heard him beginning to try the door. 'That'll be enough, I just need three more hours.'

But she was too late. On the last turn, there was a shout of "Reducto!" and the door imploded violently in a cloud of dust. It was enough to rattle her, her fingers fumbling fatally as she saw him silhouetted in the gaping hole. He raised his wand, grinning humourlessly at her. Just as she completed the final rotation, he shot a curse her way. The black light collided with the time turner, her hopes shattering with the glass on the floor. The force from the blast was enough to send her flying into the back wall, her head meeting it with a sickening crack. Everything around her began to spin, her attacker's face warping nightmarishly. She succumbed willingly to the darkness.

October 25th, 1977

" A concussion-"

"Severe damage to the ribs-"

"I found this-"

"Why would she-"

At first, there was nothing. Little fragments of conversation, perhaps, as she floated in and out of consciousness. A tiredness like she'd never felt before. And then there was searing pain, white-hot, and it was eating at her, burning her from the inside out. She let out a strangled cry, hands curled into fists, gritting her teeth, unable - or unwilling - to open her eyes.

The shuffling of feet, a hand on her shoulder. She was forced to open her mouth and to drink something, although in her frenzy she had no idea what it was. But the pain began to subside, her breathing slowing. Sleep came to claim her again, and she welcomed it with open arms.

This time, it was not pain, but voices that woke her. There were hushed whispers surrounding her, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough that she couldn't discern what was being said. With great effort, she managed to open her eyes, blinking at the unexpected bright light that confronted her. Groaning, she brought up a hand to rub her eye, but she could barely move it - it felt like lead.

"What…" she began. The knives in her throat prevented her from speaking any more.

Three figures slowly came into view, becoming less blurry each time she blinked. The first was a sweet-faced woman with brown hair. Unlike her companions, who wore formal robes (and one of them an excessively pointed hat), she was dressed plainly in a scarlet dress and white apron. Her expression was one of unrepressed concern, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Standing next to her was an older woman, black hair tied tightly in a bun. Her eyes were sharp, searching, her emerald robes giving her an air of practised formality. The third was the most intriguing. He was tall and impressively old, with a silver beard reaching almost to his feet. His blue gaze assessed her from behind half-moon glasses, and she resisted the urge to squirm under its intensity.

Immediately on meeting her eyes, they each rushed to her bedside. For a moment, no one quite knew what to say. She was incapable of saying much anyway, so she studied them carefully and waited for them to make the first move. The two women avoided her gaze, as if they were afraid of her. Eventually, the elderly man did, conjuring a chair to sit at her bedside and making himself comfortable.

"You gave us quite the scare," he said, peering curiously down at her through his glasses.

"Where am I?" she asked, choking on the reluctant words.

The man's face remained fairly impassive, but he sent a questioning look to his associates.

"You're at Hogwarts, of course. I am the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Might I ask who you are?"

She opened her mouth to reply, and then promptly shut it again. Panic stirred within her as she realised that she had exactly no idea of who she was. There was no real memory beyond waking up, just snippets of newspapers and coffees and frankly useless things. She could not even put a name to herself: in her own mind, she had no friends, no family, no history. It became harder to breathe; her chest and throat constricted and she looked to Dumbledore with wild eyes, silently begging him for answers.

He only sighed and looked towards the witch in the pointed hat. "I was afraid of this. Poppy, I imagine you're busy."

The younger woman took the hint and nodded, sending her one last, fleeting glance before she scurried away, drawing the curtains around the bed.

"Now," said Dumbledore, leaning forward in his seat. "We have no idea how you came to be here, but we're eager to find out. It would appear, however, that you do not remember."

She nodded mutely.

"Professor McGonagall, would you mind-" he began to say, but she was already at his side, dropping something into his hands. "Ah, thank you."

"This was around your neck when you arrived. Assuming it's yours, we at least have somewhere to start."

He held out a locket, and she took it with great care. It was oval-shaped and silver, with a blue opal at its centre, reflecting bright turquoise light onto the palms of her cupped hands. Vines crept out from it, entwining with and separating from each other until they reached the edge. She ran her fingers down its sides, lingering over the small hinge. Again she looked at Dumbledore, seemingly asking for permission, before opening it. On the right-hand side, there was a small portrait of a woman she'd never seen before. She was young, bright-eyed and dark-haired. Unsurprisingly, she did not speak but smiled up at her, motioning with her eyes to the other side of the locket. There was no picture there, but instead a name.

"Adina? " she whispered. The name was foreign to her ears but familiar to her tongue. She said it again, a few more times until it sounded right. With shaking hands, she raised her arms and just about managed to clasp the necklace around her neck, softly refusing offers of help from Dumbledore, who watched her with curiosity hidden behind his twinkling eyes.

"You also arrived, rather interestingly, with this, " he said quietly.

Adina found the sight in front of her now much less appealing. It was a mess of twisted gold, black in places. There were three (albeit very warped) rings, and if her suspicions were correct, there should have been an hourglass at the centre. There was not: shards of glass decorated the internal ring. Reaching out to touch it was certainly a bad idea: for the moment she did, she was met with a bright flash of green light, and a woman's scream. It nearly sent her reeling into hysteria again, so she withdrew her hand as if it had burned her. When she looked at the Professors, they seemed not to be affected.

"Is that a time turner?" she asked, shifting away from it enough to nearly fall off of the bed, saved by a flick of Dumbledore's wand.

"I believe so," said McGonagall through pursed lips. "Although how you managed to get your hands on one is beyond me."

Professor Dumbledore put up his hand to silence her before turning back to Adina. "Can you remember what year it is?"

She looked at him as if he were crazy, and prepared herself to tell him that it was 2011, but immediately prevented herself from doing so. Adina was sixteen, she knew that - and she was a witch, which meant she had to be attending Hogwarts, even if she couldn't remember a bloody thing about it. One thing she did know was that Albus Dumbledore was certainly not Headmaster of Hogwarts in 2011. Albus Dumbledore was dead.

"It is currently 1977," said Professor McGonagall. "And, judging by your reaction to Professor Dumbledore's question, you don't belong in this time."

"I don't, I'm from 2011," she said angrily, ignoring the expressions of badly-veiled shock on the faces of Dumbledore and McGonagall. "But I can't remember anything about it, so I don't think that information's going to be any help ."

Dumbledore folded his hands, lacing his fingers together.

"What am I going to do?" she asked, throwing her head back against the pillow in frustration.

"For now? You're to rest while Professor Dumbledore comes up with a reason for you to be here. There's no way you'll be leaving this bed for the next week," said the woman named Poppy, opening the curtains to hand Adina a pain potion and leaving once again.

"You'll have to excuse Madam Pomfrey. She can be forceful when she needs to be, but it would be in your best interests to listen to her instructions. Now, I will be leaving to make some arrangements for your stay at Hogwarts. I gather you attended the school in your own time?"

"I must have done, Professor. I would be in my sixth year by now," said Adina. She paused for a moment, suddenly immersed in examining her fingernails. "Do you...Do you think I'll ever get my memory back?"

Professor McGonagall regarded her then with some pity, and although she disliked it, Adina much preferred it to the blatant distrust she'd displayed before.

"Eventually, I would say. But it may take longer than you expect, and until you regain your memories we must be on high alert. We don't know how you're here, or why, but when you remember we'll discuss that more," said Professor Dumbledore. With that, he turned to leave, McGonagall following him.

Having slept enough for a lifetime, Adina was left alone, with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her. The time turner glared at her from its position on the bedside table, despite her attempts to ignore the pit it left in her stomach. To distract herself, she took off the opal locket again and looked at the woman pictured inside. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five or so, and the image must have been taken long ago, perhaps as far back as the mid-1800s. Her hair was contained within a loose bun and she wore a white button-down and skirt typical of that period. Only the profile of the face was visible, but she appeared to be in deep thought, with her fist resting on her chin. Every so often, she'd turn to glance at Adina and laugh.

By the time she'd finished her examination of the locket, it must have been late, for what little noise had surrounded her throughout the day - occasionally a whining student, or Madam Pomfrey admonishing somebody for their recklessness - quietened down. Adina tried to fall asleep but found herself completely incapable of it. Firstly, there was the matter of her memory: how was it possible that she had retained memories of everything except her own life? She'd heard of wizards forgetting things after an injury or a bad obliviation attempt, but rarely were they affected to the point of forgetting their own identity. It was relieving to have her own name (at least what she thought was her name), even if she could recall nothing else. Next, there was the time travel debacle. How had she managed to jump so far back in time? Frowning, she calculated how many years it would be until she was born - almost twenty! She groaned, but cut herself off as she heard the quiet shuffling of feet, and then a loud curse.

"Oh, fuck! What did you do that for, Prongs?" Said the first voice.

"Wasn't me! Blame Wormtail, he's the clumsiest!"

"I resent that-"

'What in the name of Merlin is going on?' Adina thought, stifling her laughter as she heard the first boy let out a string of curses long enough to rival herself at times.

"Moony!" one of them cried, and the shuffling continued frantically. Another voice joined the fray, telling them to shut up.

"How did you lot even get down here...of course you brought the cloak! What if you got caught? What would we do then?"

"Don't you love us, Moony? All of this effort to come and see you and how are we treated, Padfoot?"

"Like animals, Mr Prongs!"

"Precisely, Padfoot," echoed the third boy.

"You are animals, the lot of you."

That did it: the whole situation was completely ridiculous, and Adina couldn't prevent herself from laughing any longer. It was louder than anticipated, though, and after a round of muttering between the boys, the footsteps started again.

"Shit," she murmured. The last thing she wanted was to be bothered by a bunch of idiots, but there was nothing she could do about it now. The curtain was thrown open, and before her stood four boys whom she estimated were around her age.

The first was relatively tall with black, unruly hair and folded arms. He raised an eyebrow at her from behind round glasses but looked otherwise unaffected by her presence. With an elbow leaning on his shoulder was an even taller boy, perhaps 6" or more, with aristocratic features and shoulder-length black hair. He smirked at her as if challenging her to say anything against him. The shortest of the four was staring awkwardly at her with watery blue eyes. His hands were tucked unnaturally into his pockets; he did not carry the same sense of grace that the other two did. Finally, looking close to fainting, was a sandy-haired boy with worn green eyes. He was the tallest of the four but didn't quite seem to know what to do with his height, much like the last boy, he appeared slightly awkward - although not to that scale. Most of all, he was curious, peering at her with his head cocked at a slight angle.

"Shit, indeed," said the second boy. "Thought you could eavesdrop on us?"

"Is it eavesdropping if I just happened to hear your conversation? There wasn't much to eavesdrop on, anyway. Just a bunch of swearing and arguing over the most stupid things," Adina said, studying them with a small smile.

"You can't talk, can you? Swearing at four perfectly innocent teenagers at your first meeting. Absolutely disgusting," replied the first.

"And yet here I am, talking to you lot. What a shame," said Adina sardonically.

"Alright, I'll bite. Sirius Black," the second boy said, pointing to himself. "James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and - whats-his-name. I can't remember the other one."

The last boy scowled mockingly. "Remus Lupin. Unfortunately affiliated with those idiots."

"Aw, you love us really, Remus," said James.

"Now that introductions are sorted, can we please sit down? I'm tired." Peter complained.

"You do have a wand, don't you mate?" said Sirius, trying not to laugh at the "Questionable" from a snickering James. He conjured four armchairs, one for each of them, and they collapsed into them in an echo of Dumbledore earlier (though with far less finesse).

"Here's how things are going to go," James said, conjuring a stool to put his feet on.

"We're going to ask you some questions," Sirius continued.

"And we'd love it if you'd give us some answers," finished Remus, but he was met with disdainful looks from Sirius and James, who shook their heads at him.

"What he means," said Peter. "Is that you're going to give us answers whether you like it or not."

Sirius then clapped a proud-looking Peter on the back, muttering something like "We didn't know you had it in you" and sending a look to Remus as if to say "look at this, it could've been you getting this treatment".

They all relaxed in their chairs, staring at her expectantly. James waved his hand in a 'go on' gesture. Adina took a deep breath. This was not what she had anticipated when she woke up that morning.


End file.
